Drama. We all know it and have heard of it. It’s on our TV, in the magazines, and in everyday life. But, there is a bigger drama out there not many are aware of: salon drama.
After working in the beauty industry since 1992, I’ve decided to touch base on this mane event. Of course, the disclaimer: the names have been changed blah blah blah will be assumed.
While truly non-fictional in every word I will endeavor in this tale of woes and foes, it is at best fiction and biographical. Where to start? Any ideas? I’m open to suggestion. Several salons later, several hundreds of salon clients and crazy bosses later, and then the rest…
Give me some tips. Should I start with the last and end with the first? Chain salon or private salon? Regardless their daily settings may have changed by location or mood (or who was fired or canned that day or week). However, the drama co-exists across all universal encounters of the beauty industry.
Here is one day in the life of drama in the follicular sense:
Kam: OMG girl! Did you SEE that guys butt?
Tim: No, today’s not my day to be looking that way. Sorry.
Kam: (puffing on his smoke) You should have seen the sweeties down in Philly last night! TOTALLY to die for!
Dino: Well I face slammed the bar last night.
A woman walks in, all three stylists slowly peer from the break room saying, “Who wants THIS lady? She looks like an Irish train wreck!?” They pause, look at her, she looks back nervously as if they are looking at her naked. She shuffles her feet looking back at the front door as if wondering if she made a mistake.
Dino: I guess I will take her.
Dino slowly walks the long walk from back-breakroom to receptionist area, not bothering to smile or pretend she is happy to make 50 percent of a $14 haircut.
Dino: Can I help you?
The Lady: Yes, I wanted to see about getting a perm today with really really tight curls.
Dino: (thinks, “Ugh, another blue rod nightmare!”) OK, follow me.
The Lady and Dino walk 10 feet to an electric orange colored hair station with poor lighting while rap music blasts in the background.
Dino: So, you want a tight curl you say?
The Lady: Yes, I had a perm last time but it didn’t seem to take.
Dino: (thinks, every old lady says this every time!) OK, let’s go to the shampoo bowl.
They walk to a crappy uncomfortable shampoo chair and bowl.
Meanwhile, the two stylists left in the break room get bored. “Time for another cigarette,” one says. “I think I’ll get chinese food but last time I got the craps,” the other replies.
Kam: I’m getting chinese again, does anyone else want to split the ticket?
Dino: Not unless you want to split my SIDES open again!? (The Lady looks up listening to the conversation, the phone rings)
Kam: (answering the phone) Hair’s My Follicle’s Incorporated How Can I Help You?
Phone Customer: Yes, do you do butt waxing?
Kam: Ummm, I dunno let me check? (looks back, yells to the salon, “Hey! Do we wax butts?” but gets no reply). Sorry, we don’t wax butts ma’am… (hides a giggle). Hangs up, yells back to the salon: OK, I just got the WEIRDEST call about butt waxing, I mean WHO wants to rip the hairs out of some perv’s A**?
Dino: YOU would! (laughs)
Meanwhile, Sarah storms in from the front door for her shift one hour late with a hung over from horrible look on her face.
Dino just watches, ignoring the attitude sensed while regretting the next two hours that will be spent wrapping near toothpick sized blue rollers on a full head while using wrapping papers thinner than anything a cigarette is smoked with. Dino tells The Lady, “Follow me.” They walk back to the horrific orange station and Dino starts to section off the hair in nine areas just as learned in beauty school. Dino thinks, “GAWD! Why me?!” 30 minutes later The Lady’s hair is wrapped in a flurry of blue rods and the rotten egg smell is making everyone sick. Dino walks back to the breakroom dying to have a smoke while everyone else has been sitting in the back complaining about how “slow” it is. They vaguely discuss food, flip through gossip magazines and discuss which Hollywood star has fake boobs or needs to return to rehab. Another customer walks in and they all, again, slowly peek around the corner and stare….
They all are dreading the manager who is returning today after his day off; they all talk about how he is from “hell” but they never say how to fix their “dilemma.”
To be continued…
The Sounds All Around 